Jemma slammed the car door. “Mi color favorita es-!” Stalking towards the Wal-Mart, she was satisfied when her lilac tinted stiletto sandals clicked in time to match her short, angry thoughts.
Spanish class had been horrible. Again.
But everything else was perfectly peachy. The debit card in her purse, newly revived thanks to her school allowance, was now screaming for attention from within her crocodile clutch purse. It was an aching sort of burn that retail therapy would soon ease.
“Everyone has a favorite color! Everyone on the face of the earth, except me!” She charged down the aisles with a shopping cart. This therapy session couldn’t take too long, her next class was in two hours and pretending to study was a necessary habit.
Her face burned as she remembered the laughter around the classroom as she’d shook her head, horrified when the Profesora called on her. Her mouth had gone dry, hands frozen, welded to the desktop, refusing even to rifle through the textbook to save herself.
Righteous anger claimed her the moment la clase had ended. “No, tengo un color favorita!” Jemma told the display of hair accessories. Her attention was momentarily diverted towards pleasanter things as she fingered barrettes and elastic hair ties. She mumbled to herself, choosing the barrette with pink, white and purple crystals, to accompany the neon handful of pink and purple elastics.
Turning the corner into the next aisle, Jemma completely forgot her rant as the long line of nail polishes gleamed brilliantly in greeting. A happy moment seized her, as she snatched up a pale purple-sparkle polish, along with a deeper red and then another shimmery purple. She couldn’t help herself, the price was excellent and the colors were simply too irresistible!
Nine bottles of polish later, Jemma was satisfied she’d found enough to work with her fall wardrobe, purchased the week before. Now she could move on to the next section, make-up! The cart rolled down to the other side of the aisle.
It didn’t take long, because Jemma already had her colors memorized according to season and skin tone. “Black liner, brown brow pencil, purple eyeliner…pink lipgloss…oooh, mauve blush! That looks fab…” The blusher was added to the handful of cosmetics now carefully placed in the cart. “Foundation and concealer-” Jemma knew these packages by heart and quickly plucked them from the metal hangers heading for the next aisle.
“Black is good for a favorite color.” She muttered, resisting the urge to toss her head. “So’s yellow. Amarillo. Amarilla. Whatever. Pink’s too girly.” She stopped in front of the hair-spray section. “Spray on gel?” Her fingers hovered in front of the green plastic bottle. The idea was tempting, but the purple can of mousse on the shelf above was more inviting. Her fingers reached higher and she turned it over in her hands, reading the instructions. “Shake, spray and enjoy. Huh.” The item was added to the cart, the spray-gel forgotten.
“Next stop, socks!” Jemma cut through the home décor section, pausing as she flew through the clearance aisle. “Lamps, oh cool!” She stared at the price tag below the shelf with the standing lamps. Seven bucks was too good to pass up. Jemma shuffled through the stack of black, silver and blue.
Her bubble of happiness expanded upon the discovery of a box marked ‘Purple’. “Score!” She chirped, wrestling it out from under the shelf and adding it to her cart. It would fit nicely in her dorm room.
Halfway out the aisle, another flash of purple caught her eye. “Five dollars?” Jemma couldn’t believe her good fortune as she snatched up a laptop sleeve, adding it to her shopping bounty.
Retail therapy rocks! I almost forgot I didn’t have a favorite color…
Her mood plummeted several happy points.
Jemma checked the time, class started within the hour. Annoyed, Jemma headed for the check-out registers. Unloading her shopping spree on the conveyor belt, she hesitated, reaching back to add a purple bag of M&M’s.
Dark chocolate was necessary for days like these.
Mentally calculating the total in her head, Jemma almost smiled. She’d managed to keep it under a hundred dollars. That was good.
“You must really like purple.” The cashier commented. “I do the same thing too, buying stuff as long as it’s purple. Doesn’t matter how it works. Sixty-two, ninety-one.”
Jemma swiped the card. She smirked.
Mi color favorita es el morada.
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